Mr Brown The teenage years part 2 by clippered kid

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So it was made clear to me that Mr Brown was my barber and I had to accept the fact. That did'nt mean I had to like it. I set about at least trying to put off my haircuts for as long as possible. If I thought that being ordered up to the barbers was likely in the near future, I'd keep a low profile. Stay out of mums way, spend more time in my room, get up and off to school nice and early, avoid being caught hanging round the house with nothing too do. More than once this resulted in Mum pressing some money into my hands and saying
"Well if you've got nothing better to do, you can get from under my feet and take yourself for a haircut before it get's too untidy."
Another thing I used to do was sneak off to the bathroom and cut my fringe. For some reason Mr Brown only ever cut a very small amount off the fringe. With the back clipped nice and high, and a big gap above the ears before any hair appeared, my fringe was only ever trimmed in a curved way to just above my eyebrows. It gave the finished haircut a real little boy look. The classic basin cut. I think Mr Brown did this very deliberately in order to achieve the exact look he wanted once the grease had been applied. But just a week or two after a haircut, even though the back and sides still looked clipped and shorn, my fringe would be almost in my eyes and I thought this was one of the tell tale signs Mum looked out for.

I'm not sure how successful my tactics were, but there were times when I managed to avoid a haircut for quite a few weeks. I guess the longest I ever went without a haircut might of been 6 or 7 weeks. But this was rare. Usually the gaps between haircuts was less, sometimes a lot less. As well as regular routine haircuts I could be ordered up to the barbers for a haircut prior to special occasions. Family events, school photos, some relative we had'nt seen for a while paying a visit were all valid reasons for a visit to Mr Brown.

Likewise the last day of any school holiday meant a compulsary trip to the barbers. No matter how recently the previous haircut had taken place I knew the old
" You're back in school tomorrow so you need your haircutting " Would be trotted out.

This policy was also very much approved of by Mr Brown. He was always aware of when it was back to school time and would often make a comment about back to school haircuts needed to be extra short to make sure I passed inspection.

I knew that complaining about my short back and sides or pointing out my last haircut was only a few weeks ago was pointless. It might even result in Mum keeping an even stricter eye on me in the future. So I adopted a policy of grin and bear it, and just be grateful for those occasions when my hair did get to grow a little longer.

If possible I would try to go for a haircut on Friday after school around 5pm. The shop was never very busy at that time, plus most of my friends would probably be at home having their tea (evening meal). The last thing I wanted was to walk out of Mr Browns and bump into my mates sporting the obvious just come from the barbers look complete with grease. Also if Mr Brown gave me a particularly severe going over I'd stay home all weekend and put off facing anyone I knew till Monday. Over the course of the weekend I'd check out my haircut over and over again in an effort to try to convince myself that maybe it was'nt as bad as I'd first thought when I stepped out of Mr Browns chair on Friday.

More often than not Mum was ok with the Friday haircut regime. Wednesday was half day closing and Thursday I had a legitimate excuse, football training after school, so if I promised Mum I'd go on Friday she'd usually be fine. Occasionally when one of my haircut Fridays came round Mum would forget and I was certainly in no hurry to remind her. I'd get to put the haircut off for a whole week. It was daft really, how much doe's your hair grow in one week, but it seemed like a big deal at the time. Anyway at some point Mum would collar me and in an angry tone say

"Did'nt I tell you to get your haircut last week "

I'd try to reply as casually as possible,

"Oh yeah I forgot"

"Never mind forgot. It's a mess and it needs cutting so you're going to get it cut understood "

"Yes Mum I'll go on Friday honest "

When Friday morning came round I'd make a point of reminding her about the barbers in an effort to get back in her good books. She'd say

" Don't worry David I have'nt forgot. Here's the money and when you come in tonight I want to see a nice short back and sides so tell Mr Brown you want it nice and short tonight "

" Yes mum "

" Make sure you do David because when I tell you to do something I expect you to do it. So when I tell you to go to the barbers you go to the barbers and I don't want to have to tell you twice "

With that I'd be off. All day in school I'd be dreading what was to come. Counting down the hours then the minutes to the end of the school day. Sitting quietly on my own on the bus ride home, sulking over my inability to stand up to my Mum and bitterly regretting not just coming for my haircut last week like I was supposed to. Eventually the bus would pull up at my stop and I'd begin to trudge slowly to Mr Browns shop.

Although Mr Browns haircuts were always short, every now and then he'd give me a really short one. Nice and close as he liked to put it. This meant back and sides taken nice and close to the top of your head. Sometimes when he was working on the sides, he would make a little joke about what a nuisance ears were before folding my ears over, placing the clippers where my ears joined my head and turning them upwards.

" Take it right up to the part shall we son. Nice and close that's the way we like it is'nt it "

I don't know why this was, I just know that sometimes he seemed to be in a world of his own, not really paying attention and he'd just keep going and going. I know this was'nt my imagination. My suspicions were often confirmed when I got home by Dad laughing and making a little comment such as

" Albert certainly gave you your money's worth tonight lad did'nt he "

I'm even fairly sure I saw a look of shock on Mum's face once or twice before she regained her composure and expressed her approval of another fine haircut from Mr Brown.

I've known day's when Mr Brown would be clipping the back of my head whilst at the same time conducting a conversation with waiting customers. At some point I'd realise that Mr Brown was more interested in the conversation than he was in my haircut. Absent mindedly he'd continue to run the clippers up the back of my head over and over again while his real focus of attention was the debate going on in the shop. There were also times when half way through a haircut Mr Brown would stop, put down his clippers, pick up his pipe and leave me sitting in the chair for 5 minutes while he had a quick chat with someone who'd popped in to see him for some reason. I was just a lad in the chair, I was'nt that important, he'd carry on dealing with me soon enough, when he was good and ready. Eventually Mr Brown would resume the haircut. He'd reach for the clippers again and I'd want to remind him that my haircut was nearly done. He'd already used the clippers on me but it was no good. Because his concentration had been broken I knew Mr Brown was about to give the back and sides another going over just to be on the safe side and I was in for a real scalping.

In my experience this kind of attitude to youngsters was not that uncommon in the 70's. Even though I was a good lad who came to Mr Brown for "proper haircuts", was always polite, well mannered and never made a fuss, it did not entitle me to any kind of special consideration or leniency.

But tonight was different. Because Mum had put her foot down I was actually going to ask Mr Brown to cut it really short. I was going to volunteer for one of Mr Browns specials just to keep Mum happy. Now here's a funny thing. As I took the last few steps to the shop door and I knew I'd soon be caped up in the chair, I would always relax. I'd been stressing out over this for days but now I was at the door of the shop I'd think " Oh well your here now let's get it over with". It was like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Everytime I walked into Mr Browns shop, it was like stepping back in time. Not only in the sense that the shop was old fashioned and had'nt changed a bit in all the years I'd been going there, but also personally. As soon as I walked through that door I was 10 years old again. A child not a teenager. The unique atmosphere of the place never failed to get to me. The dark wooden furniture, the aroma of pipe smoke, Mr Browns air of authority. It was like being summoned to the headmasters study. I'd presented myself to Mr Brown again so that he could "sort me out".

Rarely would Mr Brown pass up the opportunity to remind me that I should come to see him more often. Very often my barbershop visits would begin with a little telling off about leaving it too long between haircuts. It was put in a light hearted barbershop banter kind of way, and I would laugh and play along with it, not taking it too seriously, but even so the message was clear. Either as soon as I walked in or as I took those last few steps to the chair he would eye me up over the top of his glasses and in a disapproving tone say things like

"Hello David, long time no see. I was wondering when you were going to pay me another visit". Or

"Hello hello were've you been hiding. Your father was in the other week son, I told him to send you along. Did'nt you get the message." Or the classic

"I'm surprised you have'nt been getting headaches walking round with all that hair on your head. Your going to know you've had a haircut tonight son when I've finished with you "

As I said they were kind of jokey comments and I never took them too seriously, but over the years they must of had a kind of dripping tap effect. By the time I was sat comfortably in the barbers chair with Mr Browns cape settling gently around me I could feel myself slipping into the old familiar routine. And I'm sure Mr Brown knew he had the young lad who currently occupied his chair under his complete control. This was now the time for me to let Mr Brown know I wanted it nice and short tonight, so I spoke

"Actually sir Mum told me to get a haircut last week but I forgot so could you take it nice and close for me tonight please"

"See son I'm always telling you to come in more often are'nt I"

"Yes sir"

"Well we can't have your mother upset can we ? So good short back and sides for you my lad, and you want me to take the back and sides right off eh. Keep your mum happy"

"Yes please sir"

With that the shop fell silent for a minute or two while Mr Brown put down his pipe and prepared things for my haircut. Then the silence was broken by the gentle humming of the clippers and without needing to be told I bent my head down and another scalping from Mr Brown was underway.

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